


Young Lady!

by Grungey_Romantic



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adoption, Awkward child, Coming of Age, Gen, I fucking love 2p itame I will fight you, I was bored and fuck my Global essay, Orginal Lore, Slightly angsty teen, diary entries, experimenting with a different format/narration style don't mind me, idk - Freeform, love child, still a wip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grungey_Romantic/pseuds/Grungey_Romantic
Summary: Well, the universe wasn't always the best to Lucida. But when she finds she had two dads at age 15? When she finds out her existence AND the other shit she has to go through? Her early life was a pleasure cruise compared to this confusion.A story told through the account of a cynical teen who wants answers after everything she has know gets called into question and how the nations deal with stuff.





	1. Hello There, Hell's Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So this is my first work, don't kill me.  
> I'm trying my best
> 
> I thought of this at three am after waking up from some dream where Allen and Luciano had a child okay
> 
> SOME THINGS ABOUT THIS THAT ISN'T MENTIONED IN THE STORY!\  
> -1ps and 2ps have made their peace  
> -They are in the same universe  
> -Honestly I made up a love child oc but I'm not into Mpreg so you get this 
> 
> ENJOY, KIDDOS!

Name: Lucida Vargas-Jones  
Age: 15  
Looks: Long, straight brown hair, tan skin, reddish brown eyes, a few random cuts and bruises, calloused and paint/graphite stained hands  
Outfit: Black and red skirt, black button down, red tie and boots  
Personality: Confident, intelligent, rebellious, loyal, creative, cunning, always tired and/or done with people’s shit  
Likes: Music, animals, art, a very, very small number of people  
Dislikes: Jerks, bullies, The caretaker  
Other: Plays Mandolin, blasts every type of music under the sun through her headphones (except for a few artists she doesn’t like), always has a thing of colored pencils and a small sketchbook, dances around her room when she thinks no one can see her, draws on her shoes and arms and hands and anything she can reach when she’s bored, has more guy friends than girl friends, can think well on her feet, has insomnia and ADD, loves candid photography 

I, Lucidia Vargas-Jones assert that this is a true account. 

X Lucida Vargas-Jones 

* * *

My name is Lucida. A very small number of people call me Luci. I’m at least ninety-nine percent sure people make devil jokes behind my back. It doesn’t matter. What this is supposed to be is an account from my time at the orphanage into my time with my family. Right now, I’m sure this will survive only as an account of the orphanage, seeing as I’m already fifteen and still haven’t been adopted. Granted, I can still hope, but realistically, it’s unlikely. All the little girls get adopted while they’re still small and cute and well behaved. I didn’t quite fit the last category growing up, so here I am, one of three girls in my age group. As of now, I have no last name. No one knows my mother. I had just turned up on the doorstep one day, a tiny newborn. At least, that’s what they told me. On a cold January 20th. So that’s my birthday. I’ve even heard them say it almost looked as if I had been born hours ago. That’s what the old caretaker had said before she left. The new one, Miss, doesn’t like me much. Whatever, I don’t like her either. A couple’s coming today, so I need to go. But I’ll be right back. They won’t pay me a second glance.

* * *

As it turns out, I have two dads that didn’t know I existed until two years ago and honestly; what the fuck? The couple that was coming had been looking for me, specifically. They found out from an outside source, and they had been looking. They said that they’d explain everything tomorrow, when they pick me up. So I just have to pack and sign my assertion, I’ll be gone. But how can I have two dads? How did they not know I existed? Who was my mom, then? Well, I have a last name to sign my assertion with, now. They hyphenated theirs. 

Lucidia Vargas-Jones. 

That’s on my paperwork now. My small amount of belongings are packed, excepting some toiletries, this book, and my sketchbook and pencils. My suitcase is still open on the floor next to my bed, I’ll close it tomorrow, and my messenger bag and mandolin case sit beside it. Electronics are packed, just a computer I had saved up to get myself for schoolwork and unrestricted internet use, my phone-on a portable charger I may or may not have stolen when another boy forgot it after he aged out- and some headphones. That’s pretty much it. A few changes of clothes beside it. It’s really all I have. But it’s getting late. And I’m tired. I’ll just throw my last few things together and go to sleep. Good night, I suppose.


	2. Well, Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck yeah. Here's some angst and lore. Enjoy

Dear God, these two are dorks. 

One was quiet for most of the drive and looked like he couldn’t speak, and the other other wouldn’t stop talking until the other (who was driving) suggested playing music. Thank Fucking God. Even then, he was DJ-ing and sang along to all of it (Though I did join in on a few myself). Luciano and Allen. Though, in their defense, I’d be a bit weird around a child I didn’t know existed until two years ago too. I still don’t quite understand. Allen’s a punk who can’t be any older than nineteen, maybe twenty, and Luciano is some guy in his early twenties that is more than a little uptight and formal. How the hell did either have a child, disregarding biology here. Really, I can’t wait to find out. They left me alone for a bit to get settled, they had something to do outside of the house for a bit that was pre-planned and they couldn’t change for anything. “We’ll only be out for only an hour and a half, though. So you can take the time to unpack.” They severely underestimate how much I own. “We’ll explain everything when we get back, promettere.” I hope so. So now, I have a half an hour to kill. I’ve unpacked in my new room, played mandolin and drew for a bit, listened to music, and I still have a half hour to myself. Might as well work on this account thing, right? Well, I added to it. Guess I might as well add a bit more about myself? Whatever, I have half an hour to kill. I’m fifteen. My eyes are a weird reddish brown color and now I know where that comes from (Allen has litteral red eyes, I shit you not.). I like music, animals, and an extremely small amount of people I no longer live with and don’t know if I’ll see outside of facetime ever again. I just drove a few hours with my dads to my new home and I’m far from what I considered my hometown. I’m probably already done with people’s shit. I’m going to start at a new school. My favorite book is The Book Thief because I thought having Death narrate it was the coolest fucking thing when I first read it. I never took the pottermore test because everyone keeps saying I’m some weird fusion of all the houses and I think I’ll get a headache taking the test. It would take less time to list artists that I don’t like. Touch my mandolin without asking and I’ll kill you. Mention my height and I will punch you. I am not five foot one I am five foot one AND A HALF. And with that, I hear the door open, and we leave off for now.

* * *

What. The. Fuck. 

I was sure for at least ten minutes that this was some elaborate prank. But nope. It’s a thing. What the fuck. Nations. They’re personifications of nations. What the actual fuck. I literally just exist because the universe decided “Hey, let’s give the 2p (Again, what?) personifications of America and Italy a kid and never tell them!” I don’t even have a mom. What the hell. They literally just found out from someone else. I’m still reeling. Apparently, there three of us, including me-that they know of and found. Seriously, why? 

I thought whatever family I had had abandoned me. I thought I wasn’t wanted- and you know what? 15 years of people overlooking you to adopt other kids certainly didn’t help. So, the universe just decided to create a feeling, sentient being and just abandon it somewhere? Just didn’t give a shit? How many of these kids existed and were never found? Does the universe not have a choice, or does it just not care? I don’t think I’ve been more pissed at fate. In could accept maybe that couple not picking me because I got in an argument at the wrong time. I could accept that maybe math or sports weren’t really my thing. I could accept the closest thing I had to a mother leaving. I could accept Miss not liking me and always giving me the blame and the worst of everything. Hell, after awhile, I could even accept that my birth family maybe wasn’t meant to have me and left me. I don’t believe in God or some higher power, but things happened for a reason, and I couldn’t change it. It was just fate. It was or wasn’t meant to be. That I could accept. But just being created and left with no explanation, no one else knowing of my existence, and still being considered one of the lucky ones because they found me while I was alive? Hell no. There is no way fate would’ve worked like that.   
One more problem: I’m supposed to meet these other kids this weekend (two days from now! Kill me!). And I am absolute shit with people. Time to turn on the charm-even if it hadn’t gotten me that far before. Good Fucking Night


	3. Heckity Heck, I Crave Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That meeting could have gone so, so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Gotcha!

I haven’t written for two days. Ooops. 

Okay, so it wasn’t horrible, but it 100% could’ve gone better. 

Pretty normal. Went into a big building, headed to the second floor, Allen (I’m still not sure weather to refer to either of them as “Dad” or something because I am awkward) was complaining about being “tired, sleep deprived, and unnecessarily dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour for a meeting that starts at eight” (A mood, honestly, insomnia was kicking my ass last night and I’m out of meds, and I’m not quite sure how to mention that), Luciano was scolding him for (apparently) watching Buzzfeed Unsolved until 3 am, (I swear, it was like watching the logical and impulsive parts of my brain argue) and me just silently trailing after them. Then they just left in one room while them went to the one they needed to go to for their meeting. And thy were second there, so I was awkwardly stuck in a room with a slightly more sociable kid. A boy about my age, his name’s Alex. He was nice enough. I was just awkward and randomly clamming up. Thankfully, he had a tendency to jump between being perfectly quiet and getting not wanting to socialize, and rambling non stop, so I didn’t have to initiate conversation. And not all the silences were awkward. He introduced himself, asked some questions, rambled on a bit after I asked about his parents (He already knew mine- news traveled fast, and one of his dads is friends with Luciano). He’s a rarity, apparently. Child of a 1p and 2p. I still have no clue what either of those terms mean, and at this point, my pride won’t allow me to ask. The son of both personifications of Germany. I was just sort of awkwardly clutching my sketchbook in the corner. I need social help. And mental help. I’m a fucking wreck, if you haven’t noticed already. Eventually, the last kid had showed up. Another boy, a little younger. Slightly wavy black hair and dark eyes. Short as hell. His name was Riku. He seemed pretty nice, just a bit more outgoing. So I was stuck with these two from almost two hours. I was wishing for death the whole time and drawing in my sketchbook. The other two knew each other (obviously), so it probably wasn’t as awkward for them. And I was doing the cold shrew act. Fucking unintentional defenses. Pretty sure I fucked that up already. At least some good art came of it. 

Good night, can't wait to fuck up more at school


	4. School Isn't Always Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucidia discovers the complications of school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, I've been busy

Okay, so I skipped a few more days of writing, because I was in SCHOOL! Fun! Note the sarcasm! 

Alright, so, no one likes school. No one likes the first day of school. No one likes being the new kid. No one likes transferring in the middle of the year. And, as I found out, no one actually likes the new kid either! I lost count of how many times I got shoved. And the whispers. Not to mention that no one would let me sit with them. Ended up on the empty back table. Not fun. 

Not sure whether I should mention it. It isn’t exactly dinner table conversation. Guess I’ll just suck it up. It’ll get better, probably. Or not. Actually, probably not, because people are pieces of shit who rarely change, excluding a very small number. 

Pretty sure music class id my one saving grace. The teacher’s alright, and he seems to like me (though I was kind of the only person actually paying attention and participating, so it might’ve been that). And it’s pretty easy, even if I came in mid-year. Just a few more month of hell. Welp, see ya.


	5. This Is Very Not Good TM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucidia is not having a fun time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a while. Yes, I know it's hella short. Yes, I realize this is more of a filler. Fuck off.

I am probably way more tired than I should be. Please kill me. Seriously. Just do me the favor. School fucking sucks. The kids still hate me. Usually, I wouldn’t care, but seriously, I have no one on my side. I have no one to talk to about it because none of my old friends can’t remember how to pick up a damn phone. Still sure those two kids from the meeting probably hate me because I was kind of a dick. Still not sure how to mention that I’m running low on meds. Life is basically hell right now. I just want to lock myself in my room for a week. Can’t do that though, because I have to be responsible. So I just lock myself in once I get home instead. Avoid going out at all cost. Won’t be working tomorrow though, because guess what? There is another meeting! Meaning I have to see those other kids again! After they already probably hate me! Kill! Me! Please!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, please?? (I need validation kill me)


End file.
